


Come Home

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. They call for him every year; it's been four years now, and Jack hasn't gone home. But then he does, and nothing is as it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily based on a short story I read a long time ago called "Louisa, Please Come Home" by Shirley Jackson.
> 
> I altered it some from the original story, but obviously there are a lot of similarities, and the premise is the same. I've always wanted to do a piece based on the story, though. Even if it's not the most original of ideas.
> 
> But yeah, anyway, enjoy.

"Sean, please come home. It's been four years since we saw you last. We miss you so much. Please come back, my baby boy. Please come home." 

He heard her voice every year. Every year, on August 2nd, Jack would hear his mother's voice, calling out for her youngest son, begging him to return home. She would always call for him at the exact same time, and he would always be sitting in his room, his back to the door, staring blankly at the radio that emitted the noise. 

The story would appear every year in the newspapers too--not that Jack read the newspapers, but Mark did. Every morning Mark read the newspapers, a habit he'd picked up from his deceased father, and normally Jack never touched them, but on the mornings of August 2nd, once Mark left for work, Jack would pick up the paper and read through the story--Sean McLoughlin, missing for one year, two, three--this year would be the fourth.

Jack never put much thought into his disappearance until the anniversary. He always locked it away tight, never letting the face of his siblings crop up or the memory of the forest after a big storm behind his house--it was always just a fuzzy image that he never prodded at until the anniversary, where everything would hit him full force. It would make him sad, sure, but never quite enough to make him go home. His mother's voice made him ache, of course, but the ache was easier to deal with than going home.

It was better out in the city with Mark, anyway.

Whenever he did think back on it, Jack's decision to run away hadn't been a spur of the moment. There had always been something in him that wanted more out of life--as if he had been bitten by wanderlust, suddenly eager to leave home. He didn't know why he hadn't told his parents he would be leaving, because by the time he left he was eighteen--perfectly capable of making his own decisions and hitting the road, but he hadn't wanted to be found. He had wanted to just...disappear, from everyone's hearts completely. The only way to do that had been silence. 

He could remember the day clearly. It was the day before his sister's graduation--everyone in the house was frantically making sure things were in order, that graduation party celebrations were a go--that the gifts were all properly wrapped and that all the relatives were settled in or on their way. Jack remembered the buzzing noise of the household in a haze, and after watching his brother talk to his grandmother on the phone, he got off the couch and went to his room, grabbed his wallet and walked right out the front door. No one had spoken a word to him. 

The only person who had stopped him on the way to the train station had been Felix, the neighborhood friend. Felix had always been a bit of a nosy person, anyway, and asked Jack where he was going, and wasn't his sister graduating tomorrow? Felix was a year older than him, but they were still amazingly close, so Jack hadn't dismissed him. He had simply told him he was going out to buy his sister a present, and that he'd be back soon. Felix had accepted it, and left him alone. 

So Jack had bought a one-way ticket to Lanche, a city two stops from where he lived currently, in Boyte. The train was about a three hour ride, and despite how tired he was, Jack was awake the entire time. He hadn't been frazzled at all, not slightly nervous that someone would come running in after him, screaming about how he wasn't supposed to run away. The silence had done him good--coming from a home with four rowdy, older siblings and two strict parents, he savored it.

His arrival hadn't been spectacular, though. The city was nothing that Jack had been promised, but maybe it was better that way. From the moment his feet touched the pavement of the cityscape, he made a new name for himself. Sean McLoughlin had been left behind in Boyte, inside the house. From here on out, he would be Jack William. 

So the ruse had been created. He would become known as Jack William, eighteen years old with his heart set on bigger and better things. He came from a pretty little house out in countryside, with only his parents left there. No siblings to speak of. He was an only child. He was eager to begin setting up life for himself, perhaps starting university in the fall. 

The first thing Jack had done when he got to Lanche was hit the local supermarket and buy himself a backpack. It was a plain old thing, but it suited his purposes well. He had bought it along with a package of socks, a package of gum, and a bottle of water. On the spur of the moment, he bought himself one of the cheap $1 pins, one with a little eyeball on it, and he pinned it to the bag. Once he had stuffed all of his goods into the bag, he had slung it over his shoulder, and grabbed a newspaper on the way out, looking for any possible apartments for rent.

He would have to get a job, if he were going to stay. Jack knew that, but he had wanted to secure a place. He had enough money from odd jobs over his life in his wallet to set him up for at least two months' rent at someplace small. He had then seen the advertisement looking for a new roommate at a little place on Rosemary Street. Jack had seen the price, hailed a cab and had the driver take him there. Not once did the driver meet his gaze.

From the moment he stepped up to the apartment, Jack had known it would be the perfect place. It had that air to it, as if he were meant to be there, like he belonged. He had knocked twice, soft taps to the wooden exterior, and upon opening, the apartment revealed Mark Fischbach, the soon-to-be light of his life, who would make running away from home worth every cent he spent. 

His room had been lovely. Mark had been even more so. They got along so splendidly in the first interaction that Mark had agreed to be roommates with him on the spot, as if they were meant to be together. 

Within the first day, Mark knew all about him and his fake life--even admired him for leaving home so early, with so little direction but so eager to prove himself to the world. Mark himself was a writer--a decently successful one at that, who wrote short stories. But he had a day job, as well--he worked at the local animal shelter, but surprisingly enough didn't own any pets. When Jack had mentioned getting a job, Mark had told him the bakery across the street from his work was looking for someone to hire. 

Fortune had been in Jack's favor that first year. He met Mark, he got a place to live, got a job right off the bat--it was almost as if his destiny had been to run away. 

Of course, his face had been posted everywhere in that first week. Still, Jack's nerves weren't frazzled in the slightest, surprising as it was. One morning when Mark was reading the newspaper, and while Jack was eating toast, Mark had mentioned the missing Sean McLoughlin. 

"Do you think he looks like me?" Jack had asked, and Mark had stared at him so critically for a moment that Jack feared he would be able to see the resemblance right away.

"A little," Mark had replied after a while. "But your hair is shorter. And your eyes are brighter."

That was that. The years passed and despite his face cropping up again every year, no one ever made the connection. Jack William was so ingrained into Lanche now that he couldn't be Sean McLoughlin. He went to stores and bought clothes, went to work everyday baking pastries, and ate dinner at diners with Mark every so often--all in public, and no one cared. Sometimes Jack forgot he was ever anyone else. 

On that first year of his disappearance, August 2nd, Jack heard his mother's voice on the radio as he stepped into his apartment that night. Mark had found an old radio and on a whim decided to turn it on. Mark had been sitting at the kitchen table, frowning hard, and when Jack came in, frozen in fear, he had asked, "Jack? Are you okay?"

That was the only time Jack had ever been concerned about being found out. More than that, Jack had been terrified of having to leave his new life behind. 

"She's calling for him, now?" Jack had replied, voice barely above a whisper. "She's calling for her son?"

"It's so sad," Mark had said, standing to meet him. Apparently concerned for him, he pulled him into a tight hug, trying to soothe his nerves. "I hope he'll go back home soon. His mom must be heartbroken."

Jack remembered how hard he had trembled in Mark's hold, and so desperate to cling to his new life, so desperate to be secure, he had pulled away just long enough to kiss his roommate hard on the mouth, which was reciprocated almost instantly.

Though he had never considered himself to be into men, he had always been a little into Mark. And the desire had always been there, just beneath his skin, but never quite enough to do anything, never quite prominent enough until the possibility of being ripped away made itself known. 

Mark hadn't minded. His fear was forgotten that night, and the morning of August 3rd, Jack had taken the radio to his room and set it in the window, never turning it on for any other day other than August 2nd. 

Life went on like that. Him and Mark became a thing, sharing kisses and sleeping in the same bed, whispered promises in the dark of the night and cuddles in the bright of the morning. Jack settled comfortably into his new routine, fulfilled by his little bakery job and by the love he was given every single day. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He was happy with his new life and with Mark, and never felt the urge to go home for any reason.

This went on for four years. Four years of peaceful bliss, where Jack felt like he had everything he ever wanted. Sure, he wasn't doing anything grand and glorious like he thought he'd wanted, but he never felt like he was missing anything. 

Honestly, it was just bad luck running into Felix again.

One evening, Jack was working when the bell to the shop rang, and in walked his all-too-familiar friend. Felix had taken one look at him, locked eyes, and his jaw dropped open. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as Felix whispered, "Sean? Is it...is it really you?"

"Maybe," Jack replied, trying not to tear up at the sight of his old friend. He hadn't realized he'd even missed him. "Hey, Fe." 

"Oh my god," Felix breathed. "It is you. God--they've been looking for you for so long, and to think you've been--you've been here, this whole time? Christ, Sean--you have to come home. They miss you so much." 

Maybe it was the old nostalgia that convinced Jack to go, because he agreed to. Felix was insistent they go right now, so Jack wrapped up a little cake--figuring he owed his sister a graduation present, after all. He let Felix drag him out of the bakery and it wasn't until Jack was already halfway back to Boyte that he remembered Mark. He didn't have a phone, hadn't wanted one--Mark would be frantic if he didn't come home on time. 

He decided he would make it up to him later. 

The train ride itself was long and tiring. Felix pestered him with questions that Jack ignored, deciding he didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But when he exited the train at Boyte and looked around, he almost cried. "Nothing's changed at all."

"I can't help but think that if I had decided to go with you," Felix mumbled. "You would have never left."

Jack didn't answer that either, as Felix took him home.

The house was the same too. It looked the same as it had when Jack had left that morning. His heart pounded against his rib cage as he gazed upon the wooden structure, where he had spent so many years of his life. He trotted up the stairs, and then knocked on the door, Felix in toe.

A beat. Then someone came to the door. His sister's face came into view. He was surprised she was still at home. Perhaps she was visiting. She stared, and then demanded, "Who are you?"

His stomach flipped. He extended the neatly wrapped cake out to her. "Happy graduation, sis."

Her face shifted from confused to angry in a manner of seconds. "What the fuck is this? Some sort of sick joke? Who the hell are you?" 

Apparently having heard the commotion, Jack sucked in a breath as his parents approached, both looking tired. His mother took a good, long look at him, and then whispered, "And you are, my dear?"

He finally got a chance to answer. His throat felt dry as he said, "Sean. Sean McLoughlin."

"No," his father said. "Your real name." 

Felix jumped to his defense. "That is his real name! Mr. McLoughlin, it is him!"

But Jack just said again, "It's Sean. I swear, it's Sean McLoughlin."

When his father shook his head disapprovingly, something in him broke. Suddenly, all he wanted was to stay here, for his parents to recognize him. Had four years really changed him so much, beyond recognition? 

"Obviously not," his sister scoffed. "Felix, what the hell is this? We thought you cared about Sean! He doesn't look anything like him! How could you mess that up?"

Felix looked appalled. "How can _you_ not recognize your own _brother_?"

Jack shook. His mother kept looking at him sadly. Felix tried again, "Mrs. McLoughlin please, you have to--look at his eyes! His eyes are the same, I swear!"

His heart skipped when his mother actually looked him in the eye. He thought she might recognize him for a moment, but then tears welled in her eyes. "Felix, this is cruel. My heart can't take this. This isn't my baby boy."

Jack felt sick. Felix looked like he was going to argue some more, so Jack broke him off, "Felix, it's obvious they don't want us here. Let's stop causing them grief."

He turned on his heel to leave, but then he glanced over his shoulder. "I hope your son comes back. Goodbye."

The door closed without so much as an answer, and he heard the soft mumbling of voices inside, presumably complaining about him, and how dare he pretend to be their son? He gazed upon the house and closed his eyes, imagining his old room, kept the same way it had been when he left, his CD collection filling the top drawer of his dresser, his posters over his bed, his closet still as messy as ever with his old shoes and old books. 

He wanted to stay. But it wasn't meant to be. 

All the way back to the station, Felix tried to convince him to go back, to prove to them that he was the real Sean, but Jack didn't have it in him. He hugged Felix goodbye, promising he'd write, before he bought another one-way ticket back to Lanche, with no plans of returning ever again. It was no longer home. 

It was late when Jack rolled back into the city, much later than he ever stayed out. He walked the entire way back to Rosemary Street, where he stuck his key into the apartment door, only to already find it unlocked. He opened the door and was almost immediately enveloped in a hug. 

"Holy shit, Jack," Mark breathed, squeezing him tight. Jack buried his face into his shoulder. "I didn't know where you were. You really need to get a cell phone, because God I--I was so worried about you. Don't scare me like that. I don't know what I--what I would've done if I lost you." 

A sense of overwhelming sadness filled him as he hugged back just as fiercely. His memories of his old home slapped him full force, and the same desperate desire to be secure flowed through him. He wiggled out of Mark's grip long enough to kiss him fervently, several times over.

"Don't worry," Jack mumbled between kisses. "I won't leave again."

Mark hummed in acknowledgment, obviously pleased by the statement as he rested their foreheads together, lacing their fingers, and it was then that Jack decided he wouldn't be turning the radio on anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
